“Dale and Sean,” Ma said as she carried a bowl over to Da, “the both of you best go weed the garden today. Hilda said she’d be coming back sometime soon, and you don’t want her to be thinking you shirked your duties.”
Da accepted the bowl. “Perhaps, if you boys are good, Galen’ll bring back candy from the store.”
Sean wrinkled his nose. “God knows if we’re good, but how will Galen?”
Colin put his finger to his lips. “That’s a secret.”
Dale leaned closer and whispered loudly, “Like Ma havin’ eyes in the back of her head?”
“Shhh!” Colin hissed while nodding slowly.
After breakfast, Ma directed which jars were to go to town. Galen and Colin loaded the buckboard, and then, as Ma fussed over how to keep the jars from breaking, Galen went back inside. “Da, was there anything you’d like?”
Da reached for Galen’s hand.
Cautiously sitting on the edge of the bed so it wouldn’t jostle his father, Galen clasped his father’s frail hand in his. There was a time when his hand was so much bigger and tougher than mine. I never thought he’d be anything but strong and capable.
“There’s but one thing I always wanted to buy.”
“What’s that, Da?”
“I couldn’t afford to buy your ma a ring. Nothing would gladden my heart as much as to slip a pretty band o’ golden love upon her finger.”
Eyes and nose burning from unshed tears, Galen couldn’t speak a word. He gently squeezed Da’s hand.
“I ask so much of you, son.” Da’s voice broke. “But God’s given me the assurance deep in my heart that He’ll stay alongside you and be your fortress when I’m gone and you carry on.”
Choked with emotion, Galen cleared his throat twice before he managed to speak. “I’ll rely on Him, Da. But I’d take it as a favor if you’d not rush to the pearly gates.”
“None of us knows the dear Lord’s plan or timing. ’Tis our place to take His lead and obey. The path is oft rocky, but the view is always best when we get where He’s taking us.”
“Ready, Galen?” Colin yelled.
Galen forced a smile. “For the time being, I guess God’s leading me to town.” He rose and settled Da’s hand on the covers, then pressed a kiss to his gaunt cheek. He murmured softly, “And the view there’ll be the finest band of gold you ever saw.”
Da’s smile stayed with Galen the whole way to town. When he pulled up to the back of Lester’s store, he spied three strangers coming up the road from the opposite direction. The sorriest mule he’d ever seen pulled a rickety wagon with sparse belongings. Judging from the way the people all boasted the same white-blond hair and worn-down look, Galen guessed they were father, son, and daughter.
“Feed my sheep.” The Bible verse went through his mind. But how could he up and offer charity to complete strangers without offending them?
Lester opened the back door. “I wondered who pulled up. What’ve you got there?”
“Plenty.” Galen smiled. “I have crates of the usual fresh vegetables, but I also have canned tomatoes, green beans, jelly, syrup—”
“Well, well.” Lester rubbed his hands together.
“I thought I’d give you first chance before going over to the diner.”
“I’ll take it all. We’ll need to tally it.”
The dusty family and flea-bitten mule drew close. “Feed my sheep.”
Galen waved at them to stop. “I could use a little help unloading this and carrying it into the mercantile. I don’t have ready cash, but I could maybe give you a dozen jars.”
“Done.” The father motioned to his rawboned son to get to work. He and the girl coaxed the mule to turn into the open dirt field that held the wagons of others who had come to town.
Lester slapped Galen on the back. “Smart move. Business is brisk today. I’ll give you credit for half of the jars since I’m getting out of the work.”
Galen turned and shook hands with the stranger. “Galen O’Sullivan.”
“Ishmael Grubb. Glad to meet you.” He glanced at the food and admitted, “Gladder to have vittles. Been a while since I et anything other than corn mush.”
The girl came over. Her bedraggled dress still showed faint red and blue markings here and there from the BEST flour sacks she’d used to make it. What might have been pretty, moon-colored hair scraped back toward her nape, and a leather thong disciplined it. Her shoulders drooped as if she carried the weight of the world, but she gave her brother a sweet smile.
If I ever had a sister, it would break my heart to see her living hand-tomouth as this girl must.
She stood on tiptoe to look at the contents of the buckboard. “You want us to tote them jars inside?”
Stunned that she’d ever think to haul such weight, Galen shook his head. “Your brother and I will see to it, miss.”
“But Pa sent me to help.”
“Ivy’s strong,” Ishmael said as he hefted a flat of jelly jars.
“Miss Grubb, we’ll carry in the jars. You could help by tallying them for us.”
“Cain’t.” She raked her right foot back and forth. “Cain’t read nor write. Ishmael, he got three years of book learnin’. He cain keep tally whilst you and me tote the jars.”
“He’s payin’, Ivy. He cain keep tally. You an’ me’ll—”
“Actually,” Galen cut in, “Miss Grubb could do us the favor of asking Lester if he’d like the jars on shelves or just stacked in the back room.”
Galen lifted two flats and headed into the store.
Ivy scampered ahead of him. By the time he entered the backroom, he could hear her soft, twangy voice. “’Scuse me, Mr. Lester, but d’ya’ll want the canned goods on the shelves or in the back room?”
“I’d like some jelly out right away.”
“You got jelly?” someone said.
“Yee haw!” another man hollered.
Galen chuckled as he pushed past the curtain and into the store. He smiled at Ivy. “I think you’d better go out and choose what you’d like for your family before everything disappears out the front door.”
“We’ll jist take whate’er is left. We ain’t choosy.”
Three men surrounded Galen and started grabbing pint jars. He craned his head around and peeked at her. “Go on, Miss Grubb. Take first pick.”
On his next trip out to get more, Galen stopped Ivy. “Take quart jars. You’re feeding three. Pint jars won’t fill all of you.”
Her mouth dropped wide open.
Galen reached into the crates and pulled out a head of lettuce, a cabbage, and a fistful of carrots. “Take these, too. Traveling as you’ve been, you probably haven’t had anything fresh-picked in a long while.”
Ishmael hefted more and said quietly, “Mister, yore pure hickory.”
Galen dipped his head in acknowledgment of the compliment, then reached for the tomatoes. He and Ishmael entered the back room, and Lester stood at the curtain. “May as well bring those on in here. I’ve got half a dozen men champing at the bit to see what else you’ve got.”
With Ishmael’s help, it took no time at all to unload the buckboard. Before he went back inside the store to reckon with Lester, Galen grabbed the flour sack with the sandwiches Ma made for him from beneath the buckboard seat. “Here.” He laid it atop the goods Ishmael intended to carry to his own wagon.
“No need,” Ishmael said.
“Ma figured it’d take me half of forever to unload everything. I plan to fritter away a bit of time and eat over at the diner.”
Ivy wound her arms around her ribs. “If you wait a minute, I’ll bring back yore poke.”
“Poke?”
“Sack.” She tilted her chin toward what her brother held. “Hit’s a purdy one. Comes from fine flour, not middlins.”
Galen remembered when they’d first come to America and his mother bought lower-grade flour. They’d been thankful for it—any food on the table counted as a great blessing after prolonged hunger. Ma had orig
inally made a nightshirt for Galen out of two of the sacks, and Sean now used it. “Don’t worry about returning the sack. Just a glance proves the poke ought to belong to you—what with it having that ivy pattern all o’er it.”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“Ain’t that the beatenist?” Ishmael chortled. “Sis, yore gonna look right pretty iffen you stitch you a bodice outta it.”
“Oh, thankee, mister.”
“You’re more than welcome. I thank the both of you for your help. God go with you now.”
Ishmael and Ivy walked away, but Galen heard Ivy whisper, “He wished us to have God go with us. D’ya thank he’s one of them good Christian men who rejoice, like the song goes?”
“Must be.”
Galen called to them, “Church is at eight on Sunday. You’re welcome to join us!”
“We’ll be movin’ on,” Ishmael said over his shoulder, “but ’twas nice of you to give the invite.”
Galen went back into the mercantile. Lester grinned as he tallied up another customer’s order. “Word’s out on the street that your ma sent in her goods. Mark my words: It won’t be two full days before every last jar is gone.”
“Ma’s out of jars. When will you get more in?”
“Train’s due in at two. I ordered some since Josh cleaned out every last one I had.”
“Be sure to hold them aside for me.”
“We’ll make sure he does,” John Wall said as he cradled three jelly jars in his arm as if they were fragile babes. “I’m already tickled to have these, but if your ma takes a mind to make orange marmalade, I’d ask you to set aside a whole dozen jars for me.”
Lester tucked his pencil behind his ear and hitched up his green canvas apron. “Since Miss Caldwell ordered a couple of camellias, I could have someone drop the jars out at their place at the same time if they don’t arrive on today’s train.”
“Hilda and Ma were talking about making marmalade. May as well go ahead.”
Lester beamed. “When the train starts goin’ back East, all of the fine fruit from California will be in high demand. That farm of yours is better than a gold mine.”
“Hold it just a minute there.” John Wall glared at Galen. “Don’t get so all-fired busy that your mama stops makin’ these treats for us bachelors.”
“I’ll tell her you said so.”
While Lester busily totaled up sales, Galen went to the finegoods case and stared at the rings. Eight glittered in there. Three of them were men’s rings, though. Concentrating on the women’s, Galen tried to remember the size of his mother’s hand when he’d briefly clasped it before leaving home.
“Shopping for a ring?”
Galen jumped. He glanced over at Lester and realized the line of customers had dissipated. “Da wants me to buy a ring for Ma.
One of these is bitty and another ought to go through a bull’s nose instead of on a woman’s hand.”
Lester grinned. He walked over and unlocked the case. “Let’s get them out where you can see them better. This one is etched with orange blossoms. Very romantic.”
“Too fussy for Ma.”
Lester set it back inside the case and pulled out another. “This one is classic. Plain gold, but the sentimental value is enduring.”
“Might work. How’s about that other one?”
“I saved the best for last.” Lester smiled at him. “What do you think?”
Galen took the ring from him and tilted it back and forth. As rings went, it was shiny as could be and about a quarter inch wide. Etched deeply into the front was a cross with a tiny diamond chip in the center. He pushed the ring down onto his little finger. “I guess it’s the right size. I’ll take it.”
“You didn’t even ask about the price.”
Galen pulled off the ring. “Da wants it. I trust you to be fair.”
Puffing out his chest, Lester walked back to the counter. “I kept a tally going of what I sold. While you looked at the rings, I added in what’s left. The fresh vegetables are worth two dollars and ten cents. I counted thirty-one flats of jars. Ten were pint-sized, the rest were quart. Jelly goes for twice as much because it’s more expensive to make.” Lester scribbled on paper, then underlined the last figure. “With the fresh stuff added in, I owe you eighteen dollars and ten cents.”
Galen hadn’t asked how Ma wanted to split the money; now he’d have to decide. Dividing it four ways would be best. Since his land provided most of the produce, but the Broken P brought the jars, sugar, and such, that seemed fair all around. After deducting the two dollars for the fresh produce, that worked out to an even four dollars apiece for all the women.
“I’ll be needing to take home a few pieces of candy for the lads, and you still haven’t told me what I owe you for the ring.”
“I just filled the jars. I ended up with a handful of sticks that were broken, so they won’t sell. You may as well have them.”
Galen’s eyes narrowed. “So the ring costs that much, eh?”
“The diamond chip in it ups the price. My cost was a dollar eighty. What if I sell it to you at that price, provided you give me a promise to bring all of your mother’s canned goods to me instead of offering them to the Copper Kettle?”
“I can’t promise there’ll be much more. The women from the Broken P came over and helped. The orange marmalade was a special favor—John Wall’s been good to drop everything and fix my plow or sharpen my pruners.”
“I appreciate your candor, but I’m willing to make the deal anyway.”
Galen set the ring on the counter. “Aye, and I’m thanking you on my dear father’s behalf.” After he stuffed the money in one pocket, carefully tucked the ring in his chest pocket, and picked up the candy, Galen asked, “Have you any mail for the Broken P? I’ll be passing by there.”
“Oh, everyone’s in town. Even Hilda. They’ve all gone to the diner for lunch.”
“Mind if I leave my wagon out back?”
“Nah. As a matter of fact, I have more than just the canning jars coming in on the two o’clock train. Are you interested in driving over to the train and bringing it all back?”
“You know me—I never turn down work.” Galen headed toward the door. “For now, I think I’ll get a bite to eat.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Josh, look! Galen’s here.” Ruth hopped up from the table. Her chair crashed to the floor, and she didn’t care a whit.
Josh stood as well. “Galen, come join us.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Galen strode over and gallantly set Ruth’s chair upright and motioned for her to be seated.
She stepped back. “Galen, I’d like you to meet Mr. Daryl Farnsworth. Mr. Farnsworth, Galen O’Sullivan—a very dear neighbor.” Farnsworth rose, and they shook hands.
Josh motioned for Galen to take the chair Ruth had occupied and seated her in his own, then dragged over another one and sat on her other side.
Ruth flashed him a smile of gratitude. She couldn’t bear to be near his father any longer. Mama’s edict not to discuss finances made perfect sense. Ever since McCain realized she possessed a fortune, he’d become an absolute pest—even barged into the bank while she was there today.
“I just came from the mercantile.” Galen chuckled. “You ladies could form a business. Just about every jar of jelly has already sold.”
“What’s this?” McCain frowned. “Ruth and Laney are ladies. They have no need to labor.”
“Now, I hope you’re not saying Hilda or my mother aren’t ladies.” Galen’s jaw hardened.
“I’m sure Daddy meant no such thing.” Laney smiled at Galen. “Not a soul on earth could ever speak a word against your wonderful mama or our dear Hilda. Why, their tender care and fathomless hearts hold our households together.”
“Now, wasn’t that a nice thing you said.” Hilda patted Laney’s hand.
“Every last word of it is true.” Josh motioned to Myrtle.
“Galen’s joining us.”
“Hello, Gal
en. What would you like to order?”
Galen whispered, “Who’s cooking?”
“Daddy.”
“I’ll have whate’er his special of the day is.”
“Pork chops with dressing.”
“Grand. I thank you.” Galen turned back to Hilda. “Ma told me to split the money from the canning.”
“You will not. We were just being neighborly!”
Ruth chimed in, “If anything, Laney and I ought to be paying an exorbitant fee for the private gourmet cooking lessons.”
Galen cleared his throat. “Yes, well, you still put your hand to the task and brought sugar and jars and—”
“Just give the money to me,” McCain growled.
“You will not.” Josh’s voice rumbled like thunder.
Ruth was taken aback momentarily at the way Josh stood up to his father. Josh softened his tone. “I’m sure Dad was jesting. It was a gift. As Hilda said, we were being neighborly. After all the times you’ve shared fruits, vegetables, and nuts with us, it’s the least we could do. If anything, the scale’s still out of balance.”
Hilda slapped the table. “Now there’s the gospel truth. Did you all hear Lester talking about the train? Seems folks are selling land for a line that’s supposed to go clear across these United States.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard of it,” Ruth said. She looked at Josh. “Do you know anything?”
“Dad mentioned it was a possibility.”
Farnsworth cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s more of a probability. Far more. In fact, the eastern end is already well under way. They project they’ll reach Kansas sometime in early July.”
McCain’s eyes glittered. “It’s a sure thing. Best investment going.”
Ruth didn’t say a word.
“Farnsworth, tell her.” McCain looked from her attorney to her and back. “She ought to jump on this while she has the chance.”
Her attorney said quite blandly, “Any advice I might give would first require detailed information. If Miss Caldwell is interested, I’m willing to research the matter and assess the benefits and risks involved.”
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